Good Schtuff

Today was BLOODY FANTASTIC.

I finally found the right combination of how to make my school weekends work. Especially the Sundays, which are loooooong. I went to bed at the right time, got enough sleep, had the right kind of breakfast, sat in a great area, and surrounded myself with positive, motivated people.

I even danced at the stretchy break.

I took some risks and they PAID OFF.

I made myself visible and connected with some amazing people.

So, yeah. Good day.

Hee.

It's Out There, Not In Here

Okay, I'm feeling quite a bit calmer now. I'm still as angry as before (and justifiably so) but the aspect of rage has left me.

Although the blind fury is gone, I'm holding the anger awareness. It's appropriate. I would rather be rightly angry, directing the inevitable negativity towards the proper source, than run the risk of turning it on myself. If I neglect the anger, I might get sad or blame myself. I might even forget the content and context altogether and start feeling depressed or lacking in energy. I might fall into an ignorant self-hatred and slip into the kind of self-destructive behavior I am working so hard to avoid.

But that ain't gonna' happen.

I feel better.

Get Ready For Some Anger

I am so angry. I am so furious I want to fucking choke that motherfucker.

I have fantasies of slapping him across the face. I want to shake and throttle him until he UNDERSTANDS. He needs a fucking wake up call.

He needs to know that even if it's okay, IT'S NOT FUCKING OKAY.

Disrespect is too small a word. Why the fuck do we keep making excuses for his sorry ass? He's not "developmentally challenged", he doesn't DESERVE the justifications we make for him. He's so fucked up.

I can't believe I even remotely considered not being angry with him because, well, he's so messed up he just doesn't know any better and I can't possibly hold him to the same standards I would hold a "normal person" to.

FUCK THAT SHIT.

(In)Dependance

There's something I got used to doing for myself every day (or nearly) and I didn't do it today and I'm feeling its absence.

Where can the line between self-care and dependance be drawn? I fear that healthy reliance can morph into addiction.

I am a seeker of healers, helpers and therapies. I am proud of this, to a certain extent, as I feel it reflects my constant desire to grow, expand, learn and change. But can this unending search be nothing more than a distraction, much like the interminable student?

What isn't a distraction, really? Any interest, hobby or activity could be labeled as such, I suppose, if these events are pursued with the desire to take us out of ourselves. Conversely, extreme self-exploration can in actuality become an avoidance of self. Navel-gazing syndrome as it were. Or more perhaps we fall into avoidance of life rather than avoidance of self.

The unexamined life is not worth living...but the over-analyzed life is not free to really LIVE.

Don't Piss Off a Gift Horse In The Mouth

I try to give without expectations. But you know what? I do have one expectation.

I expect that if I am GIVING you something for free...

something that you want and need and have asked me to set aside for you...

something that I had to WITHHOLD from someone else who wanted it because you ASKED me to hold it for you...

that you come and fucking get it!

I have rearranged MY schedule to be home so you can get it. I have taken YOU into consideration and manipulated my evening (TWO BLOODY NIGHTS IN A ROW) so that you could come get something that I am giving you for free...and you have disrespected me and my time.

Not cool, buddy.

Not.

Cool.

(And by the way, this does not apply to any of the lovely people that did actually show up last night. You all are fantastic and I love you and you're fabulous.)

Opening The Gates

I've been having trouble posting lately.

Not technical trouble...

Journaling has been a challenge, too. I open my notebook, even write a couple sentences--and then go nowhere. It's not that I have nothing to say; almost as if there is so much going on I don't know what to focus on.

I've excavated my life.

I've reconnected with some friends.

I've distanced from others.

I've flowed with life.

I've opened new chapters.

I've tested new waters.

I've overextended.

I've calmed and withdrawn.

I've felt contented.

I've felt lacking.

I've felt fulfilled.

I've felt scared.

I've been reintroduced to myself.

How do I even begin to elaborate on any of that? So much of my thought is wordless and I fear that the attempt to constrain my contemplations to human language would do myself a disservice.

Let's Do The Time Warp Again

Wednesday morning I lost all concept of time.

Everyone has had one of those moments where the alarm goes off, maybe a bit too early, and you can't quite grasp the fact that it's time to get up and start your day. Once when I was in college, I fell asleep really early and woke at 10:00. it took me at least a half-hour to fully understand it was 10:00 at night, not 10:00 in the morning. My mind understood it sooner than that...but my body didn't quite buy it.

But Wednesday was even weirder than that. My alarm went off at 8:15 (late morning day) and I just DIDN'T GET IT. I couldn't understand what 8:15 meant. I had lost the concept of time.

My morning was unmanageable. I couldn't figure out when I needed to get in the shower or eat breakfast. I had no idea when I needed to leave my apartment to get to yoga on time. It didn't make sense that I seemed to be running late, when I thought I had set my alarm for a time that would give me loads of wiggle room.

I grabbed a cab to get to yoga, thinking I was going to be ten minutes late. I got there twenty-five minutes early. That's when I finally snapped back to temporal reality. I got it! Class started at 10:30. I had needed to leave my apartment at 10:00 if I was going to walk, 10:15 if I was taking a cab. I needed to shower by 9:30, eat by 9:00, rise around 8:30. Suddenly the clock made sense again.

WHAT was that about? I was slightly disturbed that I had gotten so mixed up. But in truth, it was kind of fun to have absolutely no concept of time for a little while. Like when you say a word a hundred times in a row until your neuro-transmitters stop firing properly and "lamp" no longer holds any meaning. I was looking at the clock--thinking about time and schedule--and couldn't wrap my brain around it.

Maybe it's a clue for me. We tend to manifest what we need. Not what we want; what we need. Apparently I needed to take a look at my concept of time. What does it mean for time to pass? How do I feel about my age? About my daily schedule? About my "Life" schedule: my goals and achievements? Where do I need to relax my "time stress"? Where do I need to create more time structure?

Time is flexible and funky. It passes quickly or drags along. We waste it, we spend it, we want more of it, we lament how much as passed. We want to skip the Now to get to the Then, or we want to go back and live in the Then that never really was. I feel like I've been given an opportunity to redefine it all for myself. By losing my concept, I get to rebuild time. Wonder what I'm gonna' do with it.

This Gingerbread House Needs an Intervention

First! Ever! Photo! Blog!

Okay, so any year that Lisa and I are together over the holidays, we make a Gingerbread House. But this, she is no ordinary Gingerbread House! No no. One year we had an alien crash landing in the back yard. Another year we made a big MAC truck and had Santa driving it. This year...it is the HOUSE OF SIN! THE DEN OF INIQUITY! THE...THE... It's lotsa vices thrown together with some candy is what it is.

So here we go...

Here is the front of our lovely home. Please note the references to Gambling, Alcoholism, and Smoking.

A close-up and overhead view of the front yard reveals our homeowner passed out naked on the front lawn. We also had a Gingerbread naked lady with a vagina made from black icing and a piece of licorice, but I broke her from making the Gingerbread people have too much sex and then I bit her legs off.

An angled view of the front and side reveal our despondent Mr. Snowman, who sadly hung himself from the chimney. Ah, we barely knew ye.

In homage of the dearly departed, we offer this close-up image of his final moments.

I apologize for the joke about the candy cigarettes on the roof. I'm just not very funny.

Poor Santa. Some nasty drug dealer came over to swipe some of the pot plant growing out back and Santa got in the way of the action. Dude cut Santa up with that broken beer bottle. That's just what you get when you roll wit us.

This guy was too fucked up to come to Santa's aid. Naked, passed out in his own vomit next to a pile of dog poo. That's classy.

I gotta say, though, that Gingerbread Guy was hot. I simply couldn't help myself.

This photo should never be looked at ever again.

Lisa looks pretty hot herself, what with ALL THE LEFTOVER GUMBALLS IN HER MOUTH AT ONCE! That's just gotta make you jealous of her lucky husband. I mean, look how far she can open that mouth of hers. Dayum!

But then she just spooges it all out.

This last pic is the worst of the bunch. This is what happens when a girl who never eats sugar...eats sugar! She gets totally high on that white devil and starts snorting things up her nose. Things that should never GO in a nose. Things like gummy bottles. That's just sick. And wrong. Why am I posting this picture again?

We are sick puppies and silly monkeys. But damn that was fun.

Brunch at Five O'Clock...More Diary Than Diatribe

So Saturday started out with a "meh". Gloominess both inside and outside my head. If it hadn't been for lovely people in from out of town and my desire to be with them, I wouldn't have braved the weather or my mood for that cold New Years' Night. And like so many others before me, I had the brilliant idea that "Alcohol will make it better!"

Yeah.

Okay, it did. Not that I EVER like turning to something like that to lift me out of a mood. Usually that's when I refuse to drink. I only want to drink if it is fully my celebratory choice, not if I feel like I *have* to in order to feel more comfortable/fun/relaxed/whatever. But I did. And I did end up having fun. I danced until every single part of me was sweaty. I danced until the DJ started sucking. I danced until my sister had to feel me up in order to get the butch (but attractive) lesbian to stop humping my leg. She was sweet and all, but I just don't swing that way chickie.

Despite a wee bit of a hangover, we made it to brunch the next day. Well. Is it still brunch if it's dark out before you even start eating? It was a freaking bizzaro blast. Some tidbits:

• If somebody passes a communion wafer from their mouth to yours, is it considered a threesome?
• It's somewhat strange, but somehow okay for the hostess to arrive over an hour and a half late to her own party.
• When used tampons are thrown out of your life, they pick themselves up, move on, settle down with a nice rubber band and a couple of spools of thread and set up home in a lovely waffle-maker built for two. Yup they do.
• A phrase nobody has uttered before and probably won't ever again: "Do we need a microwave for anything? Because I have one in the front seat of my car if you need it."
• Keilbasa, chocolate chip cookies, salsa, frittata, and blueberry pancakes go fabulously well together.

On another note entirely...it has been so amazingly helpful for me to gain some perspective on things. Having a friend reflect to me has been reassuring and eye-opening. It's too easy to question and doubt and wonder when the only witness is myself and the only analysis is within my own head. But with a third (or even a fourth) party seeing things for themselves, I'm reassured that certain things are exactly what I think...and certain things are not. Some are good; some need to be addressed. And some things need to STOP. And they're going to. Because the phrases in my head have changed and it feels different. A necessary separation is taking place. Several, actually.

These are good things.